


Profiling Demons

by BrightTerror



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019), Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence 2x2 Speak of the Devil, Dean lowkey sees Malcolm as his little brother, Delusions, Destiel is a very minor background ship, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gil Arroyo Acting as Malcolm Bright's Parental Figure, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Malcolm thinks they are delusions at least but they are not, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Gil Arroyo, Team as Family, but its still there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29051550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightTerror/pseuds/BrightTerror
Summary: Bright is struggling; between working his profile on their latest case involving the death of Father Reyes, peculiar and bizzare things are happening to him that make no logical sense, and his mental psyche is worse than ever.Meanwhile Sam and Dean find a case in New York involving a demon and a dead priest, what's left but to go to investigate it.___In which the Supernatural is real and the events of 2x2 "Speak of the Devil" go quite differently than expected.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Castiel, Malcolm Bright & Dean Winchester, Malcolm Bright & Edrisa Tanaka, Malcolm Bright & Sam Winchester
Comments: 26
Kudos: 76





	1. A Demonic Case, a Profiler and Two Hunters

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! My brain could not stop comparing 2x2 to supernatural so I ended up writing this crossover. Hope you like it!  
> This will have multiple chapters. Due to this being a sort of rewrite of the episode, there will be lines and conversations directly from the series.
> 
> Also: In the SPN universe this takes place after s15, in which I completely ignored the finale and Cas has his wings back.

“Dean? You might want to see this.” Sam called from the library. He was sitting down, laptop in front of him, as he researched for anything that looked remotely like a case. They had been taking a bit of a break on hunting after they dealt with their fourth apocalyptic world threat. They had managed to defeat God and Jack had brought everything back to normal with his new god powers, and even improved certain things. 

After that whole mess was taken care of, Dean took a break from hunting, only helping occasionally when Jody or the girls asked for their help. The rest of the time he would spend it with Cas or working on the multiple cars in the bunker. 

Sam however, felt he had been too relaxed lately with nothing to do. He wasn’t completely keen on quitting hunting yet, so he decided to see if there was any case he could do. Sam had been twenty minutes into his research when he found it. 

“What? You found a case already?” Dean came strolling in the library with a beer in his hand. 

“Maybe. Some leaked photos of a crime scene, a priest was killed.” 

“Why would this be a case for you?” Dean asked. He didn’t understand what his death had anything to do with their type of weird. 

“Actually, I was thinking we could both check it out.” Sam said. 

“What did you find?” Dean knew that whatever Sam found must be good for it to catch his attention and want Dean in on it. 

“So, get this, the Priest was killed, he was bled out and left hanging inside the church in a rather  _ ritualistic  _ killing.”

“How ritualistic?” Dean put his beer down and went to stand behind where Sam was sitting, so he could get a better view of the computer screen. 

“Very. They made it so his blood made a rather  _ unique  _ symbol,” Sam slid the computer screen, so Dean saw the photo. “Look familiar?”

Dean spent a few seconds looking at the slightly blurry photo, taken by a phone camera of the body. It wasn’t as clear as he would want to, but he knew that symbol. “Abaddon.”

“Yup.” Sam tensed his jaw. 

“I know I killed her, so this is probably some demon whack job.”

“Yeah. Still, I think we should check it out.” 

“Yeah, better be safe than sorry. I’ll tell Cas and then we can be on our way.” Dean would rather stay for his cowboy movie night with Cas, but he wasn’t stupid; this was something they should check out to make sure it doesn’t escalate. “Where is this anyway?”

“New York.”

_____

Malcolm didn’t want to admit it, but something wasn’t right with this case. Ever since he showed up at the church and saw the body, something wasn’t quite right but he couldn’t pinpoint it. It’s not like he was complaining, he liked the weird cases, it made him forget momentarily from all his long list of traumas and troubles, it’s just that he knew he needed to be extra cautious of this case. Which wasn’t going to be easy. 

Ever since hiding and disposing of Endicott’s body he wasn’t okay and every day it got worse. He couldn’t talk to anyone about what he was going through, which is exactly why he cancelled appointments with Gabrielle even though logically he needed them the most at this time of his life. He hated the fact his dad was the only one he could talk to. It was just a matter of fact until he completely broke down, he knew it. 

Malcolm shook his head ever so slightly to make these particularly bad trains of thoughts go away. He and JT just arrived at a possible suspects house and he needed his head in the case. Apparently, a catholic neurologist recommended the dead priest to Norman, the suspect, as a last resource. Norman suffered from delusions and thought he was possessed. They didn’t have any more leads, so it was a start. 

Norman’s mother led them both up the stairs, telling them about him. Apparently, Norman had lived there for five years and was no longer on any medication, which Malcolm mentally noted down. Someone like Norman off their meds would most likely not lead to any good things. 

Malcolm got ten times more curious about the case and this Norman guy when the Mother talked with him through the door and then splashed holy water on herself, putting salt lines across the door. Malcolm wasn’t very aware of Catholic beliefs, but he knew the salt might have been a bit too much. This was definitely not a boring case, he was loving it. 

Malcolm and JT walked in and saw all the intricate salt lines around the room, making it so there were clear pathways to his piano and bed, but everything else was covered in neat salt lines. All except the wall where the piano was, at the corner of the room. 

“Hi Norman, I’m Malcolm.” Malcolm turned briefly to look at JT. “This is JT.”

“Sup.” JT said, looking uncomfortable. 

The next part of the conversation went okay, Norman was calmed, and he explained how Father Reyes would visit him often, helping him, telling him to stay there. Things started to get rather interesting for Malcolm the moment the kid said, “the salt keeps him out.” 

“Keeps who out?” JT asked. 

Malcolm stared at him, waiting for an answer. This sure was an interesting case. 

“The demon. Father Reyes shouts at him, but still, he finds me…”

Malcolm frowned ever so slightly. He understood why the kid believed in what he was saying, being possessed and all that. He understood delusions and how the brain could be made to believe that if it was sick. What he could not fathom was why Father Reyes would believe it. From what he had heard about the man, he truly thought the kid was possessed yet he wasn’t the one under medical observation. 

Everything went sideways when he stepped over the line. JT told him not to but when did he ever listen. He needed to know if Norman was capable of killing Reyes. 

“I knew it was you. You’re a demon.” Norman’s voice became deeper and his whole demeanour changed. 

Malcolm knew delusions could change someone’s personality, making them into a whole different person but the change he saw in him was odd, it felt almost inhuman. 

“No Norman. I'm not a demon.” He wasn’t expecting to be called a demon himself. He was more intrigued at Norman’s reactions; he was sure he was so close to figuring something out, he had a hunch about it and he was going to follow through it. 

“I could smell it on you the moment you walked in. You’re like me… that's why you came here.” Norman moved from his seat and against his bed, squatting at the floor and staring at Malcolm quizzically. 

“What do you mean I’m like you?” Malcolm frowned. He was torn between figuring out why he said it and why everyone seemed to know what he did. 

“You are a killer too.” Norman smiled and Malcolm suppressed a chill that ran over his spine. His primal instincts were yelling at him that there was something very dangerous about him. Which was saying something, since he was never too preoccupied over jumping to dangerous situations. “I did it, I killed Father Reyes.” Norman slithered back until he was touching the frame of his bed and was grinning at him maniacally. 

“Why did you kill Reyes.” Malcolm knew this was a bad idea, but hey, he was already mid way through his bad idea, so why not continue it. He might as well get some answers out of this mess. 

“He wanted out, but he doesn’t want to get out. He is in my blood.” 

What Malcolm saw next he could not comprehend; it was gone the second he saw it and to be honest he wasn’t sure what he saw. Before Norman went to grab the stool to throw at them, Malcolm saw there was a flicker of something in his eyes and it seemed his entire eyes were pitch black. 

He could not do a double take because in the next couple of seconds he had to step back, move away from him so the seat that was being thrown at him did not end in his face. 

JT moved back and Malcolm followed him, stepping over the salt line and grabbing his arm to steady himself. While Norman collapsed on the ground, not touching the salt line. 

“Malcolm Bright always crossing the line.” JT raised his eyebrows at him before he left the room to tell the Mother what had happened and to call an ambulance. 

Malcolm was left alone in the room with Norman. He spent a few seconds just staring at the unconscious kid, not knowing what to do. He knelt down at the salt line and checked for a pulse. He knew Norman was alive but seeing him unconscious and sprawled on the floor made him look like a dead guy and he needed to ground himself. Once he felt a pulse, he let out a breath and begun to stand up.

He noticed he had salt on his hands from when he stood so he swatted his hands together to shake it off. As the salt particles dropped to the floor and some onto Norman, the guy in question twitched ever so slightly as if he was being burned. 

Malcolm frowned. No, he could not be possibly reacting to the salt. That would be crazy, right? He probably was just imagining things… he stood there for a few moments, then reached for a pinch of salt from the ground. When he was about to drop it onto the unconscious kid, JT and the mother walked in and he quickly stepped away, letting the mother go to him and fret about the situation. 

Once the ambulance got there, he and JT left for the station. He silently berated himself for even thinking about trying the salt theory on the kid. Salt would not work on him because he was human, there was no such thing as possessed people and everyone knows salt does nothing to them. 

Despite what he told himself there was still something nagging him about this. 

______

“Good afternoon, Ma’am. We’re here with the FBI. I’m Agent Phillips and he is Agent Payne. We would like to talk to you about your son, Norman.” 

“He is at the hospital.” She huffed. “And what does the FBI have to do with him? The police already talked to him.”

“We know, ma’am. your son—”

“Look this is confidential, but we are here tracking a very bad person that is a great danger. He poisons people to make them get delusions, we think your son might have something to do with that.”

“You think someone did this to him? But father Reyes said he was possessed. A human could not have done it.” She frowned. 

“Possessed? Wait, isn’t Father Reyes the one who died a few days ago?”

“Yes.”

“Ma’am, is it okay with you if we check his room? It will be quick I promise.”

“Very well.” She wasn’t happy about it, but she wasn’t in the mood to yell at the FBI agents. 

After she left, the two supposed agents made their way to the room. “Really Sam? Poisoning to get to delusions?” Dean stared at him. 

“It could happen. Did you have any other idea? I had to think on the spot because we didn’t know the police were already here.” Sam did his usual bitch face at him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let’s get to work.” Once they got upstairs, they were surprised to see all the salt thrown around in the room. Some salt lines were completely disturbed and broken while others were still perfectly lined. “Well, someone knew what they were doing.”

“I don’t think so. Check this out.” Sam was by the windows at the wall that had the piano. He was holding a smelly residue of something on his hand. “Sulfur.”

“So, kid is possessed even with the salt lines? Creepy Mom downstairs told us Norman stayed in his room to keep the demon out, not in.” Dean had to admit, this was an odd case for them. Or maybe once a long time ago it would have been normal for them, but after going after major world threats lately this felt odd. 

“They put salt lines all over the place except this backwall. Must have been how the demon got in. If this has happened before it might explain why the kid is actually psychotic. You know some people can’t take long term demon possession.”

“Why would a demon even possess a kid so long without leaving? They’re meat suits for them. It's not like they care.” 

“I don’t know, but right now we need to find the actual demon and find out what it wants with Abaddon’s symbol.” Sam dusted off the sulfur in his hands on his pants and they got ready to leave and keep researching. 

______

They made their way to the church after Malcolm came up with the new theory. If all of this was happening due to the lead in the paint, chances are it was sister Agnes who was suffering from delusions. 

They made it in record time and found Archbishop and Jonah Shaw there, telling them that sister Agnes hadn’t been there at all in the entire day. After a quick conversation they figured out that the painting Shaw was restoring was indeed with lead on it so their theory of getting delusions by lead poisoning was making more sense. They had to find sister Agnes before it was too late. 

Shortly after, JT, Dani and Gil heard something coming from another room and they left to investigate while Malcolm stayed with the Archbishop and Jonah. 

Malcolm began talking to the Archbishop, he didn’t quite believe in the whole religion thing, but he still heard what he had to say. He was just a tad more curious about the exorcisms than he was earlier. But the man saw through him, knowing he wasn’t a true believer. So, the Archbishop kept talking, and Malcolm listened and thought about his offer to listen, thinking maybe there was something that could help him. Because he didn’t think he could keep going with his secret for much longer. Not without it eating him from inside. 

That was cut shortly when Jonah started mumbling behind them. He was moving his hands frantically and that's when Malcolm knew something was wrong. The one time he followed Gil’s instructions to keep away from the main danger and now he was stuck with the killer, Great.

After seeing the painting, he knew Jonah was going to kill them. So, he sent the Archbishop away, told him to lock up behind him. That’s when he noticed everything was eerily quiet. He turned around and didn’t see Jonah anymore. There was no way he could have moved that fast and so silently. 

He could not find him, so he did what his brain told him to do, call his father. What a better way to battle a killer than with another killer. “Mr David, I need emergency phone time.” He spoke quickly and waited a few moments for Martin to pick up. 

“My boy? What’s wrong?” Martin asked. 

Malcolm explained as quickly as he could that he needed to know how to deal with a psychotic killer due to lead poisoning. It wasn’t much help when Martin told him there was no way of fixing it and he should lock him up. Problem was, he was locked with him too. 

“And what if I’m locked in the room with him?”

“Ah.” Martin said oh so very eloquently. 

Malcolm rolled his eyes. This wasn’t very helpful. So, he tried his best next thing; trying to rationalise with him. “It's okay, you're hallucinating. All that old paint you came into contact with lead.”

However, when Jonah spoke Malcolm got the sense something was very  _ wrong  _ since the man speaking in front of him didn’t seem as twitchy and mumbling like before. He talked firmly and with clarity even though he was still saying nonsense. 

“I’m manipulating the paint with my fingers to achieve a classical effect. I made it beautiful.” 

“No, it made you sick.”

Jonah smiled and looked at his shirt then back at him. “He is sick, not because of the lead painting though.” He motioned to his body as if he was not talking about himself. 

“No. It means you’re sick. You think you’re possessed but you’re not.” He tried to rationalise with him again but the more he talked the more his heart beat faster, and his gut told him this was going to end up badly. 

“No.” Jonah smiled. 

“That’s lovely, son. Your bedside manner is excellent. Nice and calm.” Martin said through the phone. 

Malcolm remembered he was still on the phone with Martin and he felt slightly better knowing in a way, he wasn’t entirely alone. Yet he was also rather frustrated that Martin didn’t seem to help out at all. 

“Jonah listen to me, there’s no demon inside of you.”

“You’re wrong.” Jonah’s eyes flashed and for a moment they were completely black. Just like Malcolm saw back at Norman’s. He shook his head. That was wrong. He was probably experiencing minor hallucinations due to everything happening to him lately. His psyche wasn’t the strongest now, so he guessed it wasn’t real. It could not be. “I will summon Abaddon. Become her!” Jonah yelled. 

“Malcolm, I don’t think a talk down will work this instance.” Martin said through the phone, but it sounded like there was too much static. 

Malcolm had trouble hearing what he said but he was able to hear it, nonetheless. “Then what do you recommend?” There were static noises on the other side of the call, and he could not hear what Martin said. “Dr Whitly?” He called again but it was no use. The call was not going through. “Dad?” He said weakly as he stared at Jonah in front of him. He put the phone down when the call was lost for good. He was truly alone now. There was no one to help him. 

Jonah smiled at him and his eyes turned pitch black again. This time it wasn’t for a quick second, they stayed that way. “Now, no more Dad, no more backup. Your cop friends won’t be here on time.” He laughed. “I know all about you, Malcolm Whitly. I’ve been in your head, quite literally.” 

“What?”

“After you left that whiny kid playing the piano. You were interestingly reckless, so I decided to follow you since my meat suit was currently imposed. Some nice Goya paintings you have… and that wretched parakeet…”

“How do you know about Sunshine?” Malcolm asked, his hands started trembling. 

“I've been in your house. Decided to take you for a test drive. I possessed you for an entirety of two minutes and decided it was better out of there.” He laughed pitifully. “And I thought hell was bad… that head of yours though.” His pitch-black eyes were staring right at him. “My boss would be impressed… with what you did with that man… chop him up quite... deliciously.”

Malcolm shut his eyes forcefully for a moment. What he was seeing wasn’t real. People did  _ not  _ have pitch black eyes. “You’re not possessed.” He said and didn’t know if he was saying it more for himself or for Jonah. “I can help you.”

“Yeah, I am  _ not  _ possessed. I am  _ possessing  _ this poor son of a bitch though...What is it with you filthy humans? I’m literally showing you I’m not one of you and yet you still don’t see it.” Jonah shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Believe me or not it’s not like you will last the next five minutes alive.” 

Malcolm knew he was losing it when he shouted. “The power of Christ compels you!” He should not be believing in this. It wasn’t real. 

Jonah flinched at the name Christo but nothing else happened. He cackled. “That doesn’t work. You humans can’t even come up with the proper exorcism that works on us.”

Malcolm subconsciously took a step back as Jonah took a step further. He didn’t want to hurt him, but it seemed someone was going to get hurt since both of them were suffering from delusions. 

That was the only explanation. There was no way Jonah could know all about him, about sunshine, about Endicott. 

A crash came from one of the doors and two men walked in. Malcolm saw they both had cheap suits, one had long hair and was terribly tall, holding a very weird-shaped knife while the other had short hair and held a shotgun. 

At the sound of the crash, Jonah lost his interest in Malcolm and turned to the two newcomers. “Oh fun, the Winchesters.” Jonah snarled. “I thought you had retired.”

“Well, you thought wrong.” The short hair man said. “Does your boss know about this? Because I’m betting my money she doesn’t know.”

“That’s unimportant. When I raise Abaddon the Destroyer again, I won't have to answer to her anymore.” Jonah snarled. 

“That’s impossible. She is dead, we made sure of it. And Knights of Hell can’t be brought back.” The long-haired man said and walked closer to Jonah, knife in hand. 

Malcolm could not utter a word through this entire exchange. He wasn’t sure if it was real or not. He should stop them; in case they were real. It didn’t take a profiler to see they wanted to kill Jonah. He forced himself to speak. “Don’t kill him.” He isn’t sure if he managed to say it out loud or if he just thought it. But next thing he knew, the two men were cornering Jonah. 

The short haired man threw some liquid from a flask and Jonah screamed in pain. Malcolm was going to stop them when they began speaking, well, it was more of a chanting. And not in English. 

_ “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.”  _ The long-haired man began to chant, and Jonah started screaming and hissing. The man in question tried to flee but the other man threw more of the liquid. 

_ “Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te... cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare... Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis…”  _ the other man continued the exorcism. Malcolm realized what they were doing. And the man seemed to react to it. 

Malcolm tried to rationalise it. It was probably because of his delusions that he was reacting to it, right? But he wasn’t so sure it wasn’t real though. That thought terrified him. 

_ “Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine... quem inferi tremunt... Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.”  _

When the men finished the chanting Malcolm witnessed as Jonah let out a painful scream and tilted his head backwards with force. A black cloud of smoke came out of Jonah’s mouth and it burnt into the ground, disappearing after a few moments. 

Malcolm fell backwards, he was trembling head to toe, and his eyes were darting around the place. There was no way what he saw was real. That wasn’t possible. Gabrielle had warned him about a break from reality all those months ago and it appeared the moment had come. 

He could not say he wasn’t surprised. After everything he went through, it was bound to happen. But he didn’t— couldn’t believe it happened mid case. He had failed Gil and his team. He didn’t know what was real or not... if what he saw wasn’t real then what happened with the actual Jonah? He wasn’t being attacked so did he do something? Did he kill him? Malcolm was still holding the candle and he wasn’t sure if he hit Jonah with it? Maybe he did and was imagining all of this. 

That was when he noticed someone was talking to him. 

______

“That son of a bitch will get all the punishment he deserves when you tell Rowena what happened.” Dean breathed heavily after the demon vanquished. 

“Why me? Can’t you call her?”

“Nah, she practically took you under her witch wing. Well, before she died and became Queen of Hell. She likes you. So, you’re in charge of making the call.” Dean said cheekily. 

“Whatever. Let’s clean this up and head home.” Sam sighed. 

Dean was going to answer when he heard a thump. Looking back in the direction of the dude who got possessed, he noticed the other man. He was aware of him when they arrived. To be honest, he figured the other man would simply leave when they arrived and distracted the demon from him. 

He saw now, that didn’t happen as planned and now the other man was hyperventilating on the floor looking frantic and out of it. Dean cursed under his breath and called for Sam so they could both help him out. 

“Hey man, can you hear us?” Sam asked in a sharp yet soft tone. 

“Look, I know you saw the demon back there, it causes quite a shock to see them the first time, but it will be okay.” Dean said. 

“You’re not real.” The man said, voice shaky and lost. 

“Hey, man. We are real.” Dean shot Sam a look so he could help out too. 

“We are real, and we can prove it. First, what’s your name?”

“Malcolm.”

“Good. Hi Malcolm. Listen, we are real, we can explain everything and any questions you have. But we have to get out of here before the cops get here, okay?”

“No... you’re... it's fake. I’m... I’m losing my mind. It’s not safe.”

“Dean I don’t think he is fully listening to us... and we can’t stay here any longer before the cops take a whiff of this.” 

“We can’t leave him like that. It’s our fault for introducing him to the supernatural, now we have to make sure he understands what happened.”

“Gil?” Malcolm mumbled and looked around, terrified. 

“Who’s Gil? Is someone else here with you?” Dean’s voice tensed and he looked around. They hadn’t planned for there to be so many extra people. It was night-time, no people around was almost a given. 

“Gil’s m’ Dad…he’s a cop.” He looked around and then directly at Dean. “But you should know that because you’re just a figment of my very fucked up mind.” He laughed. “I  _ should  _ have stayed in therapy.”

Sam and Dean let out a simultaneous “oh shit.” They had to leave, now. They would ask Cas to help them find Malcolm later but now they needed to leave unnoticed before the cops arrived. Cops who were apparently already in the building. 

They grabbed their things and looked at Malcolm looking terrified. “I’m sorry.” Sam said before he and his brother left the building from whence, they came. As they were closing the door, they heard voices shouting for ‘Bright’. Yup, they had been right and left just in time. 


	2. Worried Parental Figures and Reality Checks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, hope you enjoy!

After finding sister Agnes, Gil, Dani and JT made their way back to where they left Malcolm, the Archbishop and Jonah. She had told them everything, they now knew who the killer was: Jonah. Someone who was now with his kid. 

He raced over to the room where Malcolm was, but he found the doors were locked from the outside with chains.  _ What the hell? _ He tried to open it, but it would not budge. JT and Dani tried to help. 

Changing tactics, Gil kept on trying to pry the door open while Dani and JT looked for something to force the door open. After a few times shovelling at the door he stopped, frozen in fear as he heard someone shout inside. It almost sounded inhuman. 

“Bright!” He yelled but the doors would not budge. He didn’t want to think of the possibilities of what could have happened to his kid, if the scream he heard came from him he did not want to know what caused it. He had been so cold towards him lately and he didn’t deserve that. Gil had stuff to work through and he was worried about Bright, but it gave him no right to push him away. He didn’t want that to be what he last remembered. 

Gil’s guilt monologue stopped when Dani showed up with some wire cutters that managed to cut the chains. JT shot the missing locks and next thing they knew they were inside the cathedral. 

The first thing Gil saw was Jonah was lying on the floor, unconscious. He quickly made his way towards him and once he saw he was alive and not a threat, he looked around for his kid. That’s when he saw Bright huddled in a corner, trembling head to toe. 

“Bright!?” He yelled and made his way towards him. The quicker he approached him the faster he realised Malcolm did not react to him. He was unresponsive. Almost as if he was in a catatonic state. “Shit, kid what happened to you.” He said softly. Gil’s brain was unhelpfully coming up with scenarios that could have made his kid react like this. He felt powerless, not knowing what to do. 

Malcolm was just looking at his sides, back and forth, as if something was going to appear any second. He made no movement to recognise Gil nor Dani nor JT. 

“Gil? We got this. You take him home or a hospital.” Dani told him. She wasn’t going to lie, things were about to become shitty with or without Gil, but it sure would be nice to have her lieutenant around for when she called this in, again. But one look at Bright and she knew Gil needed to be with his kid. He was not going to be as helpful as needed if he was worrying about Bright, besides, she would be calmer knowing Bright was getting help while she and JT dealt with this case. 

She, like Gil, had no idea what happened, and it terrified her seeing her friend like that. One look at JT’s face and she knew he was thinking something similar. 

Gil gave her a questioning look “Are you sure?”

“Yeah boss. We got it handled. You just worry about dealing with the Brights.” She smiled at him to try and ease the fear around them. Malcolm still didn’t respond to them. 

“C’mon, kid. Let’s get you home.” Gil hoisted Malcolm up and he let him. It appeared that Malcolm may not be entirely there, but he had enough clarity of himself to know he could trust Gil, which made it easy for the older man to get him out of there. 

Gil knew it would be the logical option to take him to a hospital, but he had no idea what happened in there and a lot of bright lights and sounds and people of the hospital might not react well to Malcolm. Maybe a familiar environment would help Malcolm come to his surroundings faster. Of course, if nothing changed in a certain amount of time, he would be taking him to a hospital no matter what. 

He managed to get Malcolm inside the car after two minutes. In hindsight he would probably think it was a bad idea to drive in the state he was in, he was more worried about the man next to him than the oncoming traffic. Malcolm seemed to be in a sort of a haze, he was shaking nonstop ever since he found him, and he was none the wiser as to what happened. 

The only thing he could come up with was uneducated guesses. Jonah had been alive when they found them and he didn’t have any major wounds, meaning Malcolm didn’t hurt him badly. Which would be the only possibility of answering the state he was in. If Malcolm had to hurt him in self defence he would understand why he reacted like this, but he didn't. Something else happened and he had a gut feeling he wouldn't be finding out what any time soon. Not until Malcolm got better.

When he was close to Malcolm’s apartment, he realised he needed to warn Jessica, tell her what happened. He was her kid too. Problem was, she still hadn’t returned his calls and had basically ghosted him since he left the hospital. He just hoped she answered his calls for once. 

He put the phone to his ear and was surprised when Jessica actually answered. 

“ _ Gil _ ! It's so good you called again; I was about to return your calls. I was thinking it would be good we had a chat—”

“Not now, Jessica.” Gil cut her off. He didn’t have time for small or awkward talk. Telling her about Malcolm was his priority. 

Jessica huffed. “I would not have taken you for one of those that get all rude after a few missed calls.”

“It’s about Malcolm.” Gil told her quickly before she continued talking. 

That stopped Jessica’s rambles like a charm and Gil could tell she was worried when she spoke. “What did he do now? What hospital is he in this time?”

“He isn’t in any hospital; I’m taking him home. But he is unresponsive, Jess. I don’t know what happened, but we found him like that, shaking.”

“What do you mean you don’t know what happened? You let him run to danger all alone?”

“I never  _ let  _ him. I do the opposite of that yet that doesn’t stop him. This time he was supposed to stay back, and he did. But he ended up being trapped with the killer regardless.”

“Oh, god.” Jessica fretted and took a deep breath to calm herself. Gil could have sworn he heard the sound of a bottle of glass opening. “Why isn’t he in a hospital?”

“I don’t think bringing him into a hospital, where the lights and noises are too much, will help ground him. To be honest it would probably make it worse.” Gil explained as calmed as he could, which wasn’t much. 

“Okay.” She sighed. “I’ll be at Malcolm’s apartment in twenty minutes.”

“Great. I’ll be waiting, we just arrived.” Gil hung up and guided Malcolm off the car and into his apartment. 

They both sat on his couch, where Gil had first seat view to a very creepy Goya painting that Malcolm somehow liked enough to keep in his apartment. Malcolm seemed to stop shaking as much, Gil didn’t know if it was just wishful thinking, but he seemed to be more aware of his surroundings than he was before. He still was not talking though. 

He sat with him a few minutes, waiting for any sign that Malcolm was back with him, but it didn’t seem to work. He tried talking, maybe that would help. “Bright, I don’t know if you can hear me when you are in this state. I don’t know what happened but what I  _ can _ tell you is that you are home now, safe. Whatever Jonah told you, whatever happened, you’re okay now.” 

For the next minute there was absolutely no response from Malcolm, until Gil could see the kid’s eyes darting around the room but as if he was becoming aware of his environment. When Malcolm looked at Gil there was recognition in his face, and he frowned. “Gil?” 

Gil let out a breath he was holding and relaxed ever so slightly when his kid recognised him. “Hey, Bright. Good to have you back.” 

“How did I get here?” Malcolm frowned as he tried to remember when he got to his apartment. All he could recall was being at the church with Jonah, and him losing it making him think Jonah was actually possessed. He isn’t sure if he hallucinated the two guys who were there or what, but afterwards everything was blank. He vaguely remembers going down a rabbit hole of very unpleasant thoughts and wondering if anything was ever real. 

“Kid? You with me?”

Malcolm realized he must have been lost in his thoughts again. “Yeah, I’m sorry.” He shuddered. 

“As I was saying, I brought you here. We found you at the church, rather unresponsive… you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Malcolm said without even thinking. He conditioned himself to respond that so often it was second nature to answer that question. He closed his eyes briefly and looked down. “...I’m not.”

Gil already knew Malcolm was definitely not okay, but it felt good to hear him acknowledge it. “What happened back there?” 

Malcolm could not even begin to explain. How can he tell his father figure that he saw what was an actual, real, working exorcism? He knew he had lost it, any speck of sanity he had left because the more and the more he thought about it, the less he came up with when explaining and rationalising what he saw. The black eyes, the smoke, what Jonah said about himself, what he said about  _ him _ . 

“Kid?” Gil asked softly, reminding him where he was again and snapping himself out of his thoughts, again. 

“Sorry. I just… I can’t do this anymore.” Malcolm sighed and he felt as if he had something stuck in his throat when he tried to speak. “I think I’m finally losing it... just like Gabrielle said it would.”

“Hey, whatever is going on, it will be okay. I’ll help you through whatever you’re going through.” Gil cupped his hand on the back of Malcolm’s neck for support. “I’m here okay? Can you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I don’t… I don’t know where to start.” Malcolm was tired, and at this point, after all that happened, he didn’t think he could keep his secret any longer. If what he did for Ainsley is what is driving him to have such big reality breaks, he won’t keep quiet, he can’t. He isnt going to tell everyone, he isnt stupid, but he needs to tell Gil at least, someone to confide in. “There’s a lot to tell, it all started the day you got stabbed.” Malcolm made up his mind, he was going to tell Gil everything. But when he spoke, he realised his throat was kind of raspy, he didn’t remember yelling but, in his defence, he doesn’t recall much from the last few hours. “I’m going to get some water first... you want something to drink? Perhaps some scotch?”

Gil shook his head. “I’ll get it for you.” He began to stand up, but the other man stopped him. 

“I’ll do it.” Malcolm needed to feel useful, like he could do something right after everything, even if it was something as simple as getting a glass of water. 

Gil gave him a curt nod and sat back down. He knew it was what his kid needed at the moment. He watched as Malcolm headed to the kitchen to get some water. His brain was coming up with so many possible hypotheses of what Malcolm wanted to tell him. Whatever was bothering him seemed to have happened at the same time he was stabbed, which was  _ months  _ ago. No wonder he had been acting on edge this past case. 

He was about to call out to Malcolm to tell him he changed his mind and would like a glass of whisky when he heard Malcolm saying something, like distant whispers, and then the irreplaceable sound of a glass being smashed. 

Gil ran to the kitchen to help Malcolm with whatever he dropped but was found with an empty kitchen, and a small pool of water mixed with broken glass laying on the floor near the counter. Malcolm was nowhere in sight. “Bright?” He called out and began pacing the apartment looking for him. The door was still bolt locked so there was no way he left. “Kid?” 

He heard the locks being unlocked and he went to open the door, thinking it was Malcolm. At the other end of the door stood Jessica Whitly, she strolled in quickly saying hi to Gil but was more preoccupied in finding her son. 

“Where’s Malcolm?” She asked him. 

Gil looked at her helplessly, not knowing what to tell her. He had been here less than a minute ago, he doesn’t know what happened. Something must have been shown in his face because Jessica tensed and glared at him. 

“ _ Gil _ .” her voice was ice cold and she was making damn sure to channel all her worry into anger. “I’m only asking one more time, where is my  _ son _ ?”

______________

Malcolm left the couch and Gil and headed to the kitchen. He needed something to drink so his throat would let him talk, he could feel his mouth dry and had trouble swallowing saliva, he needed to calm down a bit before he told Gil everything. He got an empty glass from the upper cupboards and filled it with water. 

That’s when he heard a ruffling sound, like when sunshine flapped her feathers, but this was louder. He frowned and turned to where the sound came from. He twitched in his spot and felt his heartbeat pounding at his chest from fear when he saw what was in front of him. 

It was the same guy he saw at the church, the short haired one, and someone he didn’t recognise, who was wearing a blue tie and a trench coat. Since there was no possible way, they could have gotten in, Malcolm finally got yet another confirmation that he was hallucinating. 

“That’s him?” The blue tie guy asked, and the other man nodded. 

“Hello. Malcolm right? Don’t worry, we are here to help.”

“What the hell?” Malcolm shut his eyes forcefully and opened them again to see if they were gone now. But the two men were still standing there.

Blue tie approached him, ignoring the look of fear and confusion on his face and touched him on the forehead with two fingers. Malcolm dropped the glass of water he was holding, not able to stop himself from flinching as the man touched his forehead. 

It was almost instantaneous when he felt the world shift around him. It was as if he was extremely dizzy and felt he was about to fall from the world moving too fast and then the next second the horrible feeling subsided. He still felt his stomach churning and he was pretty sure if he had eaten breakfast, he would have thrown up already. 

It was only when he steadied himself that he realised he had no idea where he was. Instead of being in his apartment, dark walls and dim lights he was somewhere with wooden floors and a lot of bright lights. The place was huge. He looked around very confused, he was in a library. But it wasn’t exactly a library, there was something off about it he couldn’t quite place. 

It took him too long to acknowledge the fact that he wasn’t alone wherever he was. The two guys he saw at the church were there as well as the man in the blue tie and trench coat. 

They were looking at him, even though he knew he was losing his sanity he still had his profile skills, and the three men were standing in non-defensive positions, trying to look as non-threatening as they could. If Malcolm didn’t know better, he would say they were treating him like a wounded animal. 

“Okay this is too weird even for me. There’s no way this is a hallucination.” Malcolm said in a raspy breath. He frowned trying to make sense of the situation. The three men looked somewhat relieved at him talking, whether it was because of what he said, or just because he talked at all, Malcolm wasn’t sure. “I must be dreaming.” Malcolm decided. It was the only possible explanation that made sense. 

The three men stopped looking relieved and the blue tie man straight up sighed, looking slightly annoyed. “Listen, kid. You’re not dreaming. Or hallucinating.” The short haired man said. 

“Yeah sure.” Malcolm said, not believing a word they said. “It's the only explanation. One second I was with Gil and then I’m here. It’s literally impossible to have travelled here in seconds. Unless it was a dream. Not even my hallucinations are this wild.” 

“Do you suffer hallucinations often?” Blue Tie squinted his eyes and tilted his head. “You seem to be somewhat calm about thinking this is not real. 

“Well, I don’t think completely dissociating from reality for who knows how long counts as calm. But thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Malcom laughed dryly. “As for the question, yeah, hallucinations are not a new thing for me. Delusions though? That’s new.” 

The three other men in the room exchanged glances. Having an entire unsaid conversation while Malcolm stood there, trying to profile them. It should be easy since this was his dream, he just needed to analyse his subconscious… but something was  _ off _ . 

“Okay,” the tallest of the three said and stepped forward as he talked. “From what I’ve gathered, there’s no way you will believe this is real from only listening to us talk. And I’m guessing if we prove it you will think you’re dreaming.”

“Yes. Or that I finally had a break from reality as Gabrielle warned.” Malcolm added nonchalantly. 

“Right. That.” The man tensed his jaw and looked at his two other companions. The short haired man just shrugged, giving the man a ‘what do you want me to do about that’ look. “Is there any way you will believe we are real? Or believe what we have to say?” 

Malcolm paused to think about it. Usually at this point in his dreams everything would shift around and become a nightmare, making him wake up gasping. But so far everything seemed surreal enough to be a dream, yet not a night terror which was practically the norm for Malcolm. He needed to explore the possibility of them actually being real. Just thinking about it gave him a headache because it just didn’t make sense. “Well, there’s no way I can trust myself to see if you guys are real but if a friend of mine can see you too,  _ that _ I could trust.”

The short haired man smiled at that and clapped his hands together. “Hey that sounds doable.” He turned to look at Malcolm. “So, who’s the friend you trust and where can we find them?”

“Edrisa. She works with me.” He looked at his watch to check the time, if, and it was a big if, he wasn’t dreaming and the time was correct, she would still be working right now. “She is at the morgue.” Edrisa would be the only one he could go to now, Dani and JT were too sceptical and would not know how to react if he showed up asking if people were real or not, and Gil was a no go, since he did not want to worry him further. 

The men gave him alarmed and confused looks. 

“No, no, I did  _ not _ mean it like that. She  _ works  _ at the morgue. She is a  _ mortician _ . She is  _ not _ dead.” Malcolm quickly explained. 

“Right...” He trailed off as he looked doubtful at Malcolm before turning to face Blue Tie. “Zap us to the middle of a morgue to see someone who works at the police, and try our luck she doesn’t recognise us? What do you say? Good plan, right?” He smirked at him and the other man sighed. 

“At least this isn’t the worst idea you’ve had.” Blue tie clearly didn’t like the plan, but he was going to go through with it. 

Malcolm made a face, he was trying to profile them now, just in case this wasn’t a dream or delusion, and he wasn’t sure he liked what he analysed. The men seemed nice, but there was something about how they stood, and their eyes that Malcolm knew they were somewhat dangerous if they were messed with. Hearing how they talked about the police recognising them did not help their case. If the cops would recognise them that meant they were convicts... the question was for what?

He didn’t have much time to think because Blue Tie (thinking about it, he should have asked for names. Why hadn’t he? Right, because he was sure they weren’t real…) went to touch his forehead with two fingers and he felt the whole world spin, once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on how much ive written already, this story will aproximately have 4-5 chapters. And the next chapter Malcolm will finally learn their names heh.  
> What did yall think? Lemme know what you thought of this chapter in the comments! reading them make my day :D
> 
> Have an amazing day <3


	3. Odd Truths and An Unlikely Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, hope you enjoy!

Edrisa was  making sure everything was ready to leave. Her paperwork was done, and she had finished cleaning up from her latest autopsy. It had been a normal death, some guy died of a heart attack. Being pretty late at night she was the only one there. She liked being the last one to leave, having more time to do her job uninterrupted. It brought her peace. 

That peace was gone when she heard a weird ruffling sound and a metallic trail fall over. She jumped at the sound, slightly shaken that there was someone there. Standing a few feet away was Malcolm along with three very tall men she had not seen before in her life, yet they were somewhat familiar. 

Malcolm was a little shaken up, if Edrisa didn’t know any better she would have said he looked like he didn’t know where he was. “Bright?” 

Malcolm stopped fidgeting around and turned towards her. “Edrisa?” He was torn between sounding glad there was a familiar face around or confused that she was there at all. “You’re real.” It was half a statement, half question. 

Edrisa frowned. “Of course, I’m real… is everything okay?” She knew Malcolm, knew about some of his history and the baggage that came along with it. So, seeing him like this made her want to wrap a blanket around him and hug him until he was better. 

“Yeah.” Malcolm did not sound okay at all and by the sounds of how he said it, he knew it too. “No, I don’t know. Kind of having a hard time figuring out what is real and what is not.” He said truthfully. Ever since the whole fakely being accused of murder thing he and Edrisa had become quite good friends and he had come to see his friend as someone he could trust. 

“Oh.” Edrisa said understandingly. “Well, that can be solved. At least for now.” She smiled to try and cheer him up. “The fact you know I’m real can help you ground yourself a little. We can go from there. If you’re not convinced, I’m real, I can touch your arm, so you can feel the contact.” She thought out loud. 

Malcolm gave her a shaky smile. “That would be good, thanks.” 

Edrisa gently placed both her hands-on Malcolm’s arm, squeezing softly for the pressure to ground him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you are real now, you aren’t hallucinating me or dreaming.” She stated, leaving no room for doubt. 

Malcolm was starting to get that. If this had been fake, Edrisa would have morphed into someone else already and promptly begin to torture him psychologically. “Thank you.” After a few minutes, he started to feel his body relax and his mind stopped racing. He took a glance at the three men who brought him there somehow and was surprised to see they were still there. 

Edrisa followed his eye movements, and since he calmed down, she felt she could ask what was nagging her since the start. “Who are these handsome men? I mean, they’re not as handsome as you…” she awkwardly trailed off. 

The short haired man bit his cheek to not smirk at the comment while the tall, long haired man raised his eyebrows in awkward surprise. The guy in the trench coat squinted his eyes. 

“You can see them too?” Malcolm felt like a weight just dropped off his chest. The question he was dreading since he got there. He’d been too afraid to ask because once he did, he would know if he had been hallucinating the three men all along or not. and if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure which option he preferred to be true. 

“Yeah. Kind of hard not to miss, they’re unnaturally tall.” Edrisa tried to joke and avoided eye contact with the three strangers. 

“You can see them.” He sounded relieved and smiled. Then his face fell. “You can see them.” Realisation hit him, if she could see them, they were real and if they were real, so was what happened at the church. 

At this point the short haired man thought it best to intervene, seeing Malcolm’s reaction and the fact the Supernatural was real started to truly sink in. He had seen that countless times. “So, now do you know we are real, ready to hear us out?” He carefully asked. 

“What?” Malcolm snapped out of his rabbit hole of thoughts and nodded. He was suppressing down an upcoming panic attack. “Yeah. I’ll— gimme one minute.” He told him then refocused his attention to Edrisa, who was silently listening. “Edrisa, you are wonderful. Thanks for grounding me back to reality. I have to go now, but thanks.” He told her quickly. He was so far from okay but at least now his problems were something else than worrying about delusions, which was a change in scenery, at least. 

Edrisa frowned, not sure if she should voice her thoughts. “But you just got here. Are you sure? I’m glad you’re okay, well, better. But Bright, you don’t seem fine. You and your friends can stay for a while.” She had an idea and her eyes widened. “I know! We could go get something to eat, at a quiet place, so you can calm down.” She said with a lot of energy. 

“I’m fine.” Malcolm forced his best smile he could muster. “Really. I’m just going to go now; I have things to do.” He had so many questions. And the more he stayed there with her the longer he would have to wait to ask them. “Thank you.”

He didn’t wait on another answer, just walked out the doors, outside the room in the morgue and hoped the others would follow. A few seconds later and he was proven right when the three men barged through the doors ready to run. Huh, they must have thought he ran away. 

“Malcolm, what was that?” One of them asked. 

“Sorry. I had to leave before Edrisa kept asking me questions and I don’t have many answers.” Malcolm explained and shuffled on his feet while passing his hands through his hair. “So, if you’re real. What the hell happened at the church?” 

“I’ll answer everything, as I promised. But we have to get out of here, not a fan to be around cop places.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Malcolm began to walk out the door, but a hand stopped him. 

“I’m sure you’re getting the hang of this by now. We won’t be walking out. His way will be quicker.” He pointed at the blue tie man. 

Malcolm groaned. He didn’t have the brain capacity at the moment to even begin to comprehend what the man did. All he knew was that One second he was there and when the man touched his forehead, he felt dizzy and suddenly was someplace else. This was the third time it happened, yet it was still too much. 

They were all back at the library place they had been before. Once Malcolm felt the Earth stopped moving under his feet, he took a step back from them and pointed accusatoryly. “Okay, who the hell are you? And how can you... what is that you do? Teleport? What the hell is going on? No wait, my first question is your names. I don’t know your names and it’s getting weird at this point.”

“Oh, I guess we did forget that part.” One of the men grimaced. “Sorry about that. My name is Sam.” The tall, long haired man said. “That is my brother Dean,” he pointed at the short haired man. “And the one in the trench coat is Cas.”

“Okay.” Malcolm mentally repeated their names in his head, connecting their faces to a name. It seemed oddly familiar, their names.. But he couldn't quite place from where. That would have to wait, he had more things to worry about and it was much better now that he wouldn't have to keep calling them by their characteristics.. “Now that that is out of the way, mind explaining what the fuck is going on?”

“Well. There’s no easy way to say this, but the supernatural is real. What you saw in the church was a demon. You were not hallucinating or anything like that, it was real.” Dean didn't try to sugar-coat; Malcolm wasn't even sure if there was a way to sugar coat this information. 

“Right.” Malcolm said. “Demons are real.” he said mostly to himself, he couldn't believe he was even saying those strings of words together and  _ meant  _ it. His whole life was one big mess, and this was just the cherry on top of the dysfunctional cake. His life was a joke, it had to be at this point. “If Jonah, the guy at the church, was a demon, then what are you? He knew you.” Malcolm vaguely remembered how Jonah had stopped caring about him when they appeared, it was clear the demon found them way more important than him. 

“Me and Sam are humans.” Dean answered. He wasn't bothered by the question as much as he probably would have been if had been asked that a few years ago. 

“Humans? But then, how can you even battle demons? Aren't they supposed to be the great evil? I obviously don't know anything about this stuff, but it sounds like humans are no match for them. I mean, they’re  _ demons _ .” Malcolm was trying to make sense of the world when his whole perception of everything shattered exponentially as each second past. If it wasn't for Edrisa, he was sure he would not be believing anything Dean was telling him. She proved they were real.

“Me and my brother have been hunting everything that goes bump in the night ever since we were kids. People like us, hunters, they don't usually last more than a few years on the job. So, we are kind of a legacy.” Sam put it simply. 

“As for your demon question, after all we have lived through, demons are the least of our problems. Sure, back when we were in our early twenties, we were just like you, in the sense of thinking demons were the worst thing that could happen. Of course, after our first apocalypse that changed drastically.” Dean said nonchalantly. “Besides, that demon was not even close to being up in the chain of command.”

“What?!” Malcolm made sense of half of what he said, he wanted to turn his profiler brain off to stop thinking of the many implications of what he said. “First apocalypse?  _ What _ ?” 

“Alright, I think those questions are better left for later. I don’t think it's smart to explain that now, it would be too much information to process.” Sam intervened. 

“Yeah, okay.” Malcolm nodded while trying to steady his breathing. He usually would be one to want to learn everything even if it was a bad idea, but he reached his limit with the supernatural being real. He was going to ask about the church again when he caught up with what they said earlier. “Wait, earlier you said that you and Sam were human, excluding Cas. What is he then?” 

“He is an angel.” Dean said. He was impressed that Malcolm had latched onto that piece of information from everything, it had been such a tiny detail. For someone who thought was suffering from delusions and hallucinations, he sure had a sharp mind. “And no, I do not mean angel as a pet name, I mean the actual literal, biblical angel, with the harp and wings kind of deal.”

Sam snorted at Dean’s answer and bit back a reply. 

“I do not have a harp, Dean. How many times do I need to tell you that I was a warrior, a soldier from heaven. Harps are no use for us.” Cas said in a gravelly voice, sounding annoyed and Malcolm knew from his tone this was something Dean had done one too many times. 

“Yeah, I know, but it's funny.” Dean smirked at Cas while he looked unamused. 

“Yeah, okay sure. Angels.” Right, so Sam and Dean were apparently human supernatural hunters and Cas was an angel... Wait what? “Whoa, angels are real?” Malcolm almost snapped his neck at the speed of which he turned his head to look at Cas. “But he looks so... Human.” 

“Yeah, angels are real, but they are kind of absolute dicks with sticks up their asses. Think of them as celestial holy accountants. Cas of course, is the exception.” Dean suppressed a tired sigh as he remembered all the shit the angels had made them go through in the past years. 

“This is not my true form. This is more of a vessel.” Cas said. 

“Vessel?” Malcolm questioned and scrunched his face as he thought. “As in that’s a human being. Are you possessing someone?” he was horrified. If the angel was possessing someone how was he any better than the demons.

“I am not currently possessing anyone, no. This form belonged to Jimmy Novak, but he has been long gone. And before you continue to freak out angels can’t possess someone without their consent, unlike demons.” Cas explained. It wasn’t the first time he had to go explaining how vessels worked. He thought it best to avoid mentioning the fact his vessel wasn’t technically Jimmy anymore ever since he exploded that one time and got brought back. 

“Right, that’s comforting. Somewhat.” Malcolm laughed and frantically ran his hands through his hair. “I still can’t believe what you’re saying, it's actually real, demons, angels. I understand it's real, but I can’t believe it.” 

“That happens. Normal people don’t usually take the news well. Can’t say you’re taking it better than usual though. You were a real pain to make you understand.” Dean tried to make it sound jokingly, to avoid making it a big deal. 

“You can’t blame me for being sceptical of it. I've had hallucinations that were worse. Although they usually happened when I was sleep deprived or on drugs. Long story.” Malcolm shrugged it off when Dean did a double take when he mentioned the drugs. He cleared his throat that was very dried. Ever since going to the church and his whole world crashing down, he hadn’t had a moment to stop and drink some water or eat. Food wasn’t that much of a problem for him since he didn’t eat much but he could use some water. “Could I get some water?”

Sam shuffled from the seat he was leaning in and nodded. They had been too preoccupied with Malcolm’s mental state that they forgot to offer him some food or water. “Of course. Is water okay or do you want something else. We have beer.”

“Water is Probably the best. Alcohol can mix with my medication and right now I don’t think I can deal with that.” Malcolm flashed him a grateful smile and Sam strutted out the room. 

A few seconds later Sam strolled back in, he had forgotten to ask him. “Do you want something to eat too? I think we have some leftover food, but we could order something.”

Malcolm shook his head. “No, uh, not the best at keeping food down.” He answered sheepishly. 

Neither of the men asked questions about it, they figured it wasn't their place to ask. Sam gave a brief nod before leaving the room. 

Malcolm was torn between asking more questions or using this break to try and process everything. He wanted to ask why they had even helped him in the first place, it all was so random and didn’t quite make sense. He was a profiler; he was raised to be able to read people and anticipate why they do things. He had a natural talent for it due to his father, which is why he was so good at his job. 

But now? Now he couldn't profile the people in front of him. He knew they meant no harm, hell they had gone the extra mile to help him make sense of things. Yet there was still so much about them that wasn't clear. Reading people was easy but they were too guarded and kept most of their emotions inside, to a whole new level Malcolm was not used to. From what he could gather, Dean and Sam  _ needed _ those traits to completely shut off showing emotions in order to survive, they mentioned they were raised in the supernatural life. They knew about monsters ever since they were kids and even though they were worlds apart in difference, Malcolm could relate to them. He too had to deal with his own monsters as a child. Except his were far more metaphorical than literal monsters. Maybe that's why he didn't feel unsafe with them now like he was when he first met them. 

As for Cas. Malcolm wasn't so sure what to think of him. He wasn't human. Should he try to profile him as he would any other person? Or was there a different set of laws for angels? Cas didn't seem as guarded as the two brothers, but he was different. He wasn't evil, Malcolm knew that much. Although he had no idea how to feel about the fact Cas was using someone’s body to walk around. That “vessel” as they called it, had been someone with a life, probably had a job, a family. 

His mind wandered deep into the rabbit hole, wandering what were the terms and conditions, and qualifications for an angel to possess someone. Did they need to have certain moral beliefs? Did the angel choose the person at random, like the demons did, or were they all chosen from the start? What other creatures were out there? Dean had told him everything he heard about as a kid, what was used to scare people was real. But he couldn't mean everything, right? 

Malcolm was so lost in thought he flinched and almost fell off where he was sitting when Dean touched his shoulder. “Sorry.” Malcolm apologised when he saw Dean was looking at him with some sort of worry. How long had he been lost in his thoughts? 

“Hey, man. You alright?” 

“Yeah, I was just… thinking.” Malcolm decided that was the best answer, it’s not like he was going to tell him all his worries about this whole thing. He looked around and noticed Cas was not there anymore, he wasn't sure when the angel had left the room. Maybe he had teleported and that's why he didn't notice. 

“You look like you have more questions.” Dean stated. He leaned back in the chair and waited patiently. It was a nonverbal way of letting Malcolm know he was there to answer any questions or doubts he might have but he was not going to nag him about it. 

“Why?” Malcolm spluttered in a quick moment of hesitation between asking or not. He didn't want to ask but his brain thought otherwise. 

“Why what?”

“Why tell me about the supernatural? Why bring me here.” He realised how that might have sounded angry and he backtracked. “I mean, I am thankful for it. By bringing me here and helping me make sense of the world after what I saw. But you didn't have to. Why go through all the trouble of finding me once I left the church, and then all of this?”

There was a flicker of an emotion in Dean’s face, but it was gone in a second before Malcolm could name it, but if he had to guess he would say it was a pained emotion. “Look, uh, when we saw you at the church, you were delirious. It was clear seeing the demon took a great toll on you. As I've said before, we have seen people react to the supernatural and you were one of the most drastic reactions.”

“But it wasn't your problem. You did your job, killed the demon. You could have left.”

“Our job isn't just hunting the creatures. We do it to save people, that is what makes it worthwhile, that is how we deal with everything that goes wrong, we have that bit of hope that at least we can save a few people along the way. When we exorcised the demon— we didn't kill it— we stopped him from killing you, but you weren't saved. If leaving you like that made you end up in a psych ward, we wouldn't have done much saving, we would have ruined your life.”

“During all my time at work, I always come across people who need to be stopped. It's a nice thing to come across someone who is the opposite. You’re good people.” Malcolm smiled to hide the grimace. “Even if you had left me there, believe me, you would not have ruined my life. My life has been ruined for a long, long time. My reaction at the church was just the effect of a chain reaction from everything going on in my life.”

Dean looked at Malcolm with question. It was clear he had something to say and was thinking the best possible way to say it. Malcolm thought he had an idea of what he would hear. Everyone got spooked at his ramblings, one way or another. 

Some would smile at him with pity or give an awkward laugh before changing the conversation when he talked about his life or father. If it wasn’t that, he was used to the side comments of his knowledge ramblings, going on about how weird his talks were and then promptly changed the subject. He was used to that, half the time he talked to get things out. It wasn’t like he expected a reply acknowledging it. Unless it was for a case. 

So, he was curiously surprised when Dean spoke, and his answer wasn’t like the options he had been thinking of. 

“Man, I say this in the nicest way possible. But— look I’m pretty messed up. After the life I’ve had it comes with the job. I’ve been to literal hell a few times, and that wasn’t even the worst thing that happened to me. Point is, I’ve seen so many fucked up shit... but you aren’t from my side of the world. You couldn’t have been through what we did, yet...” Dean trailed off. Not knowing whether to finish asking or not. On one hand he was completely useless with emotions and actual heartfelt talks. But on the other hand, he was curious to know. 

He was used to finding out the truth. In his line of work, what he could see was his evidence and he would always make sure he knew what he was against. Finding information and gaining knowledge was something integrated in him, it was as natural as breathing. So, when he saw Malcolm it was an enigma. Also, he would probably not admit it but the way he saw the kid break down and saw him not knowing what was real or not, painfully reminded him of how Sam had been after the cage. He saw a part of his little brother in Malcolm and his instincts told him to do something about it. 

“What happened to you?” Dean finally asked. “I get you probably don’t want to tell me. But uh… if you want, you can.” 

Malcolm didn’t know where to begin. His life was so fucked six ways from Sunday that there wasn’t an exact time in life to pinpoint how his life became like that. Should he start with the obvious? How his father was a serial killer, and he gave him to the cops? Should he talk about the girl in the box? How twenty years later he still had the memory of her screaming in the trunk, how he almost killed her? Should he begin by telling him about the camping trip as a kid? How he literally went camping with two notorious serial killers, one which he was blood related to. How they wanted to groom them like them, to kill. 

Should he tell him how his life was messed up since then? Since he stabbed one of the killers to escape and he wasn’t entirely sure what happened at that trip even after all that has happened. Or maybe, what happened to him started so long before that. Ever since he may have seen flashes of his Dad’s work. He has no idea how much of his memories got erased and forgotten with the amount of chloroform his dad gave him as a small kid. 

Perhaps, he could just ignore everything that happened to him as a child related to his father and tell him how messed up he became from school. How kids could sometimes be worse than his father and remind him monsters hide behind masks of innocence and kids. How sometimes kids are the worst, since people don’t see them coming. He could still remember being locked in that closet for three days, the air feeling shallow and his body slowly shutting down from lack of water or food. That definitely was an origin point from one of the multiple reasons he was fucked up. Thanks to school he had his shaky hand come back full force and a lifelong trauma. 

Or maybe, he could simply skip to the past year and a half of his life. Dean wanted to know what happened to him, why give him the tragic backstory version when he could simply point out recent events and call it a day. He almost wanted to laugh in pure irony that was his life. 

He was sure his life was just being badly written as an experiment on how many bad things a human could experience. Wait, was God real? He should ask Dean, maybe if he knew he could get answers on why. But then again did he really want to know? Angels, demons, Supernatural, it was all too much and maybe he was happy not believing in a hypothetical God rather than confirming it. 

Back to the point, should he start by telling Dean about how he was fired from the FBI because of his father. How the last year and a half his psyche was breaking down like the glaciers in the poles? How he had been chasing killers to cope with his own life and memories that kept resurfacing? He knew Gabrielle had warn him about unearthing repressed memories fucking up his brain but to be honest his brain was going towards a reality break a long time before that. 

When telling Dean what happened, should he simply talk about how he watched his little sister, the one he wanted to protect since he found out about his father, kill someone while slashing his neck and stabbing him multiple times. Oh, and he should not forget the part where she didn’t remember anything, and as far as she was concerned, he was the one who did it. A secret too tainted to be uncovered. 

He had to chop off someone's body and clean up a crime scene in his own house and hide it from his father figure he looked up to, just to protect Ainsley. The only person he could confide in was his serial killer father. 

He should tell him, any of it, all of it. Would it matter? He offered to listen. Malcolm could see he had been truthful when he asked. Question was, would he understand? Their lives were too different and maybe it would all go sideways. Malcolm briefly wondered if he told him about his life; it would drive Dean away. Make him regret he saved such a messed-up individual. But then again, Malcolm profiled him. Dean was good enough to not do that. And maybe, just maybe, because of his very different upbringing, he could understand him. Wishful thinking won in the end, he decided to tell him everything. 

So, he did. 

“Well… if you’re asking about the delusions, it all started a few months ago, after I covered a murder for my sister. But if you mean what happened to me in general, well that started when I was born…” 

Malcolm started his story and told him everything and was surprised to hear how well Dean was taking it. He hadn’t kicked him out yet and was in fact listening to him, caring. There was no sign of judgment as he spoke and if Malcolm didn’t know better, he would see there was something similar to understanding in Dean’s face. 

Dean heard everything about Malcolm’s story, about what he had been through and he felt a strong sense of kinship to the man. Certain things he said reminded him of what he and Sam lived through as kids. In a sense, Malcolm’s childhood was arguably worse than theirs. He and Sam had each other. He spent all his childhood raising his brother and keeping him away from harm, he had a job to do, ever since he carried him from the fire at age four. Sure, he had the weight of the world on his shoulders with a responsibility that big, but he also had companionship, something that Malcolm didn’t seem to have. 

He heard Malcolm talking about his sister, so he wasn’t completely alone growing up but, in a way, he was, based on how he spoke. They were siblings and grew up together, but they weren’t there for each other. Not really. Dean felt something twist in his gut. He knew there was nothing he could do to help his past, but he still wished he could. If Dean could relate his own messed up childhood with Malcolm’s, it meant nothing good. He would not wish his upbringing on anyone. 

Then, the more he listened to the guy in front of him the more he saw parts of him and Sam in him. Having to grow up fast, knowing parts of the world kids were not meant to know, having messed up fathers, seeing horrors normal humans would not even imagine. Yeah, he could relate. 

Dean heard him talk, all the way through. He always said he wasn’t one for chick flick moments, but he knew when they were needed. The kid needed to talk it out and Dean was grateful he could help him with that. 

By the time Malcolm finished telling him, Dean had so many questions, so many things to say and so many people he wanted to curse, whether metaphorically or literally, he wasn’t sure yet. 

Now it was Dean’s turn to talk and this is where things got complicated. Dean wasn’t much of a talker. He expressed his emotions through actions… but now he needed to talk and there was no way around it. He got himself in this situation. So, he tried his best. 

“Huh. Yeah, I know a thing or two about hiding bodies. A few years back I thought Sammy had killed a bunch of people after he blacked out for a whole week when we parted ways. I spent the whole time erasing any trace it was him. Telling him it was okay, and it wasn’t him the whole time.” 

“What?” Malcolm was expecting anything but this. Dean wasn’t weirded out, he wasn’t judging him, he wasn’t telling him it was okay. He was relating to him. He found it strangely comforting and maybe a tad worrying. 

“Yeah. Turned out he was possessed. Not a fun time figuring that out.” Dean huffed. 

“How did you know?”

“Well, the black eyes kind of give it away.”

“Yeah, I figured. I meant, are there other signs? How can you spot out a demon?”

“Holy water works wonders. It’s easy to make and if they drink or touch it, they will burn, as if you were throwing them acid. Also salt, salt is good to keep demons and ghosts away. That’s why Sam and I have rock salt shotguns. Doesn’t kill the human meatsuit but it keeps the demons or ghosts from killing us.”

“Huh.” Malcolm was taking all the information in. Seriously he wanted to laugh at how absurd his life had become. Now he was making sure he learned all about it in case he encountered another demon again. “And uh... back at the church... Jonah, or well, the demon, said he possessed me. And he knew a lot of things he couldn’t have known.” 

Dean could see where the conversation was going and he grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled it down, revealing his tattoo. “Demon possession sucks. Get one of these and they won’t be able to use you as a meat suit. Of course, in the extremes demons could burn it out but the chances are almost non-existent for that to happen to you.” 

“A tattoo? Really? That just magically keeps them away?”

“Yeah. Contrary to what society believes, symbols and sigils hold great power. If you were ever to see my ribs, they are branded with Enochian sigils so angels can’t find me.” Dean said. “And you can use certain sigils to keep demons trapped or cast out angels from the nearby proximity.”

“How can you stay sane knowing all of this?” Malcolm huffed a laugh. This was insane, but this was his life now. He was going to have to learn all about demons. What if something came after him? Or most importantly, what if something came after Gil, his mom, Ainsley, or his team? He would never forgive himself if something happened to them. And yet, knowing this was  _ another  _ thing to keep from his family. He really hated this whole keeping secrets thing. 

“It’s not like we knew any other life.” Dean shrugged. “But the first few years of our lives we thought we knew the basics and how the Supernatural worked, Dad taught us after all and back then we thought the world of him.”  _ But then we grew up and realised what an ass he was.  _ He left that unsaid. “But uh, in our twenties we found out so many things were true, and worldwide threats kept throwing hits at us. It's not like we had any time to dwell on it. We would probably have gone insane if we had, it was circumstances so out of our league, but we did as we were raised, and soldiered on.”

“Huh.” Malcolm pondered on the information. Even though what Dean was describing was a horrible way to deal with traumatic events, by ignoring it and shoving the problems down, it somehow managed to keep him afloat. Malcolm might envy him just a little bit. “Mind if I ask a personal question?”

“Isn’t that what we have been doing? I don’t know about you, kid, but I don’t do chick flick moments like this with anyone.” Dean smiled but motioned him to keep talking. 

“I know you said you had to hide traces of when you thought Sam killed someone… but you weren’t there when it happened. If you saw him kill someone in front of you either for self-defence or not, but it's rather brutal... what would you do?” He logically knew he should not talk about the incident with people. The more people knew, the more possibilities he had of someone turning on him. But right now, he trusted Dean, and Sam and surprisingly, he didn’t  _ not _ trust Cas. They might understand him, and his other option was talking to his dad and he certainly did  _ not  _ want to do that. 

“Considering I’m in no place to judge, I would help him in a heartbeat. I  _ have _ done that.” Dean said without thinking. Helping Sam has been his number one job since he was a kid. No matter what happened he would always have his back. It was ingrained in him at this point. 

“Considering you’re in no place to judge?” Malcolm questioned. 

“I uh, don’t want to talk about it. But due to certain circumstances I have killed people. Amongst other things. I also know what it's like to chop off a body.” Dean said nonchalantly and Malcolm stared at him with a million unsaid questions. “Vamps only get killed by decapitation.” He shrugged. “My point being the things me and Sam have done have surpassed the need to be worried about hiding bodies.”

“I have so many questions.” This was definitely conflicting to Malcolm. On one hand, he had heard from a direct source, from Dean himself, that he and his brother had killed people. They had chopped bodies and he made it sound like that wasn’t even scratching the surface of what they had done. They were, for lack of better words, murderers. Who knows how many people have they killed? On the other hand, even though they were murderers they did not remind Malcolm of his father. He wasn’t exactly disgusted by their life choices. 

Maybe it was because of the absolute bombshell that was dropped on him a few hours prior, maybe it was because he understood their lifestyles were different and therefore the ethics surrounding that life was different and until he had all the information, he knew it wasn’t the same as the murderers he caught for a living. 

Dean helped him, he made sure Malcolm was okay even if the cops would recognise him. He told him his story and how he hunts monsters and gets nothing out of it but misery and death, yet he does it to save people and because it’s right. 

A few months ago, he would have stronger morals than this. Sure, he always understood the killers when he caught them. They were made not broken and the more he understood them the closer he was at understanding his father. A lot of the people he knew would jump out, claiming he had no morals or ethics, but he did, just not one that was normal for society's standards. He created it himself. And he stuck to it. 

Until Ainsley killed someone which was the catalyst for half the shitshow that was his life. And now here he was, talking to a killer that was actually not evil and that he trusted.  _ Trust _ , that word baffled Malcolm only thinking about it. He was Mr Trust Issues and yet something in his gut told him he could trust this guy and his brother. Jury was still out on Cas, but Malcolm didn’t hate the guy. 

“I’m sure you do; I reserve my right not to answer though. As I said, some things I don’t talk about.” Dean shrugged sheepishly. “Tell me, what’s going through your mind?”

“You said for you hiding bodies wasn’t that big of a deal, so, if you had to help your brother do something that was a big deal for you, if he did something big enough not to be swept under the metaphorical rug, would you help him?”

Dean laughed dryly. “Look kid, I see what you’re trying to do. Seeing your sister kill someone for the first time does take a toll. I’m sure. And we could probably help you with it, but there is no possible situation in which you can create a similar problem with me and Sam. He shot God, I backed him up, I don’t think it can get more intense than that.” He explained. 

Malcolm’s brain did the equivalent of a short circuit. “He shot God?” He blinked at him, trying to ignore all the implications that statement had. 

“Yeah, a few months back. The dick deserved it though.” Dean said. “Point is, I can’t tell you what to do in your situation.”  _ For once someone has a more fucked situation than me and I am not equipped to handle it.  _ “But I guess if you need to talk it out or brainstorm about your sister’s murder problem, Cas, Sam and I could come up with something.” 

“I would like that.” Malcolm had no idea what he was doing or why he said that. He has been keeping Endicott’s murder a secret for months and now in the span of a few hours he told everything to someone he just met. But no one else would have bothered to help or they couldn’t handle it. Martin always offered to help but being manipulated by him did not sound like a good idea, so between a sociopath narcissist and someone who saved his life, he would gladly accept the latter. He was knee deep in problems already, this couldn’t make it worse. 

“Alright.” Dean said. “Although if you want our help, we need to tell the others what you told me. Well not your whole life story, I get that’s private but the Surgeon thing and your sister murder thing. You know, the basics.”

Malcolm thought for a second. He had a point. They would have to know about it to help, but would they help? Dean seemed to trust him for some reason, he wasn’t complaining at all. It was nice, but if he agreed that means more people know and harder to keep the murder in the wraps. It all boiled down to one important question. “Can I trust Cas and Sam?”

“I trust them with my life, and I don’t see any reason why they would double cross you or something similar.” Dean said truthfully. 

“And me? Will they trust me to help me? I’m not blind, after what you’ve told me about your life it's not that hard to see you people don’t trust others.” He wasn’t judging, only stating facts. It didn’t take a profiler to see it, but he  _ was _ a profiler, and it was so obvious. 

“Yeah. If I trust you, Cas will too, and Sam is more trustful of others than we are. You’re not too bad for someone who works with the cops.”

“Thanks.” He paused. This was the second one or third time they had mentioned the law, he was reminded of when he first met them and when they went to get Edrisa. The small offhand comments about the cops knowing them, that they were some sort of renegades. Knowing their life, it was simple figuring out why. 

However, his brain was clearer than it had been earlier, there was another connection he was missing. There was something more about that statement. He then recalled his old days working in the FBI, about the most wanted and working some odd cases, then it all started to come together. Two brothers, outlaws, probably have more than a dozen murders under their belt… he knew that story, he had read their file. 

Then he remembered the church, how Jonah had recognised them. How he had called them.  _ Winchesters.  _

_ Sam, _

_ Dean _

_ Winchester  _

Oh.

And suddenly all the details and input in his working brain were connected swiftly. He knew exactly who he was talking to now and for a lot of reasons he was relieved and so very glad with himself that he had put two and two together until now. 

If he had realised who they were before getting their explanation, their life story, this would all have gone incredibly different. Past Malcolm would not have heard what a couple of ruthless serial killers had to tell him. But now? Now he knew better. Whatever he saw in the files of the FBI was not the whole story, hell, it wasn’t even half the story of what actually happened. 

There must have been some sort of expression on his face that gave him out because Dean frowned. “Kid, you okay? I can see you thinking all the way from here.”

“You’re  _ the _ Sam and Dean Winchester. The FBI’s most wanted.” Malcolm muttered aloud in awe. The final piece of the puzzle finally sinking in place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? i would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!  
> Dean has unofficially adopted Malcolm as his little brother, I've been wanting to write this chapter ever since I thought of this crosover so I'm happy to finally post it! Hope you liked it :D  
>  Have an amazing day!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are like a shot of pure dopamine, I will appreciate it forever. :D 
> 
> Find me on tumblr, whether to lurk or chat: @BrightTerror (writing blog) and @Sherlock-Freud (Prodigal Son blog) 
> 
> Have an amazing day!


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